Rebirth
by Mr.Hooty
Summary: Since the war has ended, the people have begun to focus on things closer to home; in this case, the Kazekage's marital status. Gaara decides to take a much needed break to think things over, and there's rumor of a person who claims to have been reincarnated. What happens when they don't turn out the way he expected? (Full summary inside) (Slight AU - Gaara x OC)
1. Chapter 1

**Full Summary****: Since the war has ended, things have been exceptionally peaceful. This has, unfortunately, brought the people's attention to matters closer to home; in this case, the Kazekage's marital status. With his older sister's plans of relocating to Konoha, there has been doubt the village's needs will be sustained in her absence. It's all about politics in the long run, but Gaara is doubtful he will find anyone suitable enough; his happiness is a factor, too, after all. Meanwhile, there have been rumors that a strange phenomenon has occurred in the Land of Earth; someone is claiming to have been reincarnated, and that they remember their past lives. While not believing it himself, Gaara decides this is a perfect distraction and that it is time he take a much needed vacation. An eccentric old man can probably take his mind off of things.**

**But what happens when this "old man" turns out instead to be a young woman?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.**

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><p>"There's been talk," his sister began, flattening a sheet of paper across the desk. She lifted her eyes to his meaningfully. "Regarding your marital status."<p>

"Hardly surprising," he replied, resuming his task in filling out his paperwork. "Certainly not a new topic of discussion."

She waved her hand near his face to bring his attention back to her. "You're nearing twenty. Now, I don't agree with them, but even I have to admit there are benefits to a marriage." She straightened and folded her arms. "This is all purely political, and you know that. And if I do say so myself, we don't have enough women in politics as we are."

He set down his pencil and leaned back in his seat. "A woman in politics is a formidable thing. You've proven that more than once alone. I don't believe there will be anyone who can rise above your shadow."

She smiled, pleased. "You'll never know unless you try." More somberly, she added, "I might not be around much longer, you know."

"And you will be sorely missed," he reassured, reaching out a hand for her to take. He placed his other hand atop hers and held her gaze; he could catch the faintest trace of moisture in her lashes. "Not a person in the world can take your place. But I promise you I will try."

She nodded, once, and smiled again. "What this family needs," she said, "is a fresh start. Maybe it will do you best to find a clean slate, and begin anew from there."

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><p>"There's a myth," Kankuro brought up during dinner, "about an ancient soul wandering the earth."<p>

"A myth," Temari reiterated, holding out the plate of steaming veggies for him to pick from. "Been reading books?"

He filled his bowl and waved the plate away, pausing to drink from his cup. "More like, I've been hearing rumors." He nodded in some general direction. "They're saying there's this person—a nomad, I think—that claims they've been reborn a dozen times."

"Just people talking, then," she dismissed, turning over a bit of meat before bringing it to her mouth.

"I think it's worth looking into," he said, glancing at their younger brother. "Been saying things they couldn't possibly know, recognizing people they shouldn't. Sounds interesting to me."

"You're saying this like we don't have anything else to do," Temari sighed, stabbing the air with her chopsticks. "We still have to finish reconstruction, Kankuro. There are treaties that still need signing, deals to be made, and this drought is expected to last another few years, and that needs solving, too."

"I'm not telling you to drop everything and go look," he snapped, putting down his bowl a little more loudly than necessary. "War's over and everyone's all good and friendly. I think it's about time our little brother took a vacation. Why not something worth looking at?"

"A myth?" Temari asked, elbow on the table.

"In the Land of Earth, up in the mountains. We can stop by and visit the old man if we don't find anything." He finally turned back to Gaara and smiled. "He took a liking to you during the war anyway. Would do good to see him every now and then."

"It would do him good," Gaara replied. "I do think it would be interesting. I hear the mountains are particularly beautiful this time of year."

Temari gave him a look. "Are you sure? What about the village?"

"Kankuro is right," Gaara said, setting down his chopsticks. "Since the war has been over, things have been incredibly peaceful, and I don't see it ending anytime soon."

"And most would consider him overworked," Kankuro added, an excitement taking him when he realized whose side Gaara was taking. "He deserves a break, Temari."

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><p>A figure was stooped just off a dirt trail, inspecting a cluster of mint sprouting from between some weeds. They reached their hand out to touch the leaves, their wrinkled fingers tugging very gently. After a moment, they released the mint to stroke their own beard thoughtfully.<p>

"Curious," a voice spoke up from behind the old man, but he did not turn around to regard them. "Mint hasn't grown out here in many years."

The old man tugged a wide brim hat from his back up over his head and, with a weary grunt, rose to his feet. He shifted the sack upon his shoulder and turned, continuing up the path. "It's not yet ready to be picked," he said. "Come back in a few days, it will be perfect then."

"I'm in no hurry," they said, trailing along behind him.

"Why, no," the old man agreed. "You are quite young."

Nearing the top of the mountain, a little house was settled quaintly upon more even ground. Wayward boulders were scattered behind it, and around the side a vegetable garden lied just beside a small pool of fresh water.

The old man walked ahead to heave the sack atop a pile near the garden. He stretched, popped his spine, and sighed. "You have been more help than I can possibly make up for," he said as his companion came forward to set down two pails full of seeds down beside the pile.

A pair of eyes bluer than the sky itself regarded the old man for a second. "You have given me a bed to sleep in and have put food in my stomach. It is the very least I can do."

The old man smiled, and it crinkled his eyes at the ends. "Have you decided to settle now? The life of a farmer is not an easy one, little lady."

The girl returned the smile and shook her head. "I am merely passing through. Once we finish planting the rest of those seeds, I will take my leave."

"I am sorry to hear that. My wife has grown quite warm toward you."

"This parting will indeed be a regrettable one," she said, squatting to pull a pail toward her. "Let us hope we meet again one day."

The old man chuckled. "Providing I live to see that day. Every morning, I find another white hair." He tipped off his hat and scratched his head of graying curls. At one time, they had been full of thick black coils.

"Oh, I have no doubt you will be," she replied, "being as hardy as you are. But if you don't, let me say a proper farewell to you, my friend."

He knelt down beside her with some effort, joining her in picking through the seeds. "How about a simple _until next time_?" he suggested. "No matter what, we all do end up in the same place."

"Your belief is an ideal one," she allowed with a nod. "When the time comes for me to take me leave, let us wish each other a fulfilling life, regardless of length. When we meet again, let us both be in a good place."

"This speak is depressing," he laughed, clapping his hand upon her shoulder. "My wife would hit us both on the rump if she heard us."

She took up the shovel and offered it to him. "Then let's busy ourselves another way. If I heard right earlier, she mentioned baking a pie for tonight."

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><p><span><strong>A.N.<strong>**: I'll update soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer****: I do not own ****_Naruto_.**

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><p>Dawn was an hour away, but Gaara could not bring himself to fall back asleep. Restlessness thrummed through his every vein and he had to physically refrain from rolling out of bed to pace the floor. Curling his fingers into the covers, he trained his eyes on the ceiling and attempted to pull his thoughts back together.<p>

He had, of course, entertained the idea of marriage before. But, all things considered, it had always seemed a very distant, unattainable future; a thing he could only ever turn about within his mind but ever actually grasp between his own hands. Some days, it served to bring about a smile, if only at the irony, the absurdity of it. The idea that someone would actually want to spend the rest of their lives with _him_, of all people, sounded to him more like a joke than anything.

"There are lots of girls that like you," Temari had offered, shutting his office door behind them on the way out. "There's no shortage there, let me tell you."

He knew that much. It was hard not to notice.

It was more the contrast, really, that often caught him off guard. So accustomed to fear in the eyes trailing after him that when he glanced back, now, and found instead expressions of admiration, he had to bite back the sudden sensation of disconnection; the question of whether he had been mistaken all along, or if this was reality at all.

And he knew he could take his pick amongst them, that any one of them would perhaps fall to his feet in gratitude at his choosing them. But there was always this sort of foreboding, this certainty that they would one day wake up and their fantasy would have shattered overnight, this disenchanted look on their face when they turned to him in bed—all that fawning, all that affection, would cease with no more warning than it had begun. He knew they would see that their idea of him was not the reality eventually, and everything following that moment would be absolute torture for the both of them.

Gaara wasn't sure how to explain that to his sister, this brand new fear that one night he would fall asleep beside someone who was undeniably in love with him and wake up in the morning beside someone who was undeniably _not _in love with him.

He wasn't afraid of commitment.

He had spent _years _devoted only to his village, his people, their acknowledgment. His only thought those nights spent awake—when he really had no choice to sleep either way—was how to give _more_; of himself, his strength, his_ very soul_ into that endeavor alone. And on the nights he _could _sleep—when there was no promise of calamity at the end of that road—his dreams would be consumed by _more_; everything, everything, _give them everything you have_.

There was not a single shred of doubt in his mind that he could take that dedication, all those hours spent striving toward that alone, and focus it on one person—and then another if they decide having a child with him would not be adverse. He knew for a fact that he could give all of himself, every single bit there was to give, to them.

What he was afraid of was that they would take all of this—all he could have possibly given them—and step over it like it had been nothing at all.

What he was afraid of was the fact that he _knew_, with absolute certainty, that he would take himself apart just for one person—the idea of their love, obtaining it, holding it close to his chest—but that he _didn't _know if they would do the same for him.

And so he laid there, running one hand down over his face, searching for something, _anything _to distract himself with.

When the only thing he could cling to was that _myth _his older brother had mentioned during dinner, what had nothing at all to do with his turmoil, he decided to turn his every thought toward that instead.

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><p>"You are drawing much attention."<p>

"Is this a bad thing?"

"Not at all. The village is getting more publicity than it ever would alone."

The old man scratched at his beard, watching the girl tug strands of her hair taut before snipping them painstakingly with a pair of old shears. She wore a shirt of his he had outgrown too many years ago to count, and for a moment he could make out the shape of a man that had been absent for just as many. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, and squinted down at her again.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," the girl said, and looked up at him as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking.

Perhaps she had. Things have been strange enough as they were, dumping this new thought atop the pile only tipped the scale further in her favor. If there had been any doubt remaining, it would be gone now.

"You don't have to go," he said. "It was far too early and for far too long. This hasn't been."

The smile she gave had ghosts attached to it, too. "If there's anything I've learned, a life cannot be spent chasing after lost time."

"Did you not miss us? Did you not think about us while you were gone?" There was no accusation in his voice.

"Of course I did," she assured, flicking away the last slivers of hair from her fingers. "But that life has come and gone, and we both need to accept that now."

"Why did you come back?" he asked, and still, there was no accusation in his voice.

The smile, this time, was more rueful. "I never said it was going to be easy." She ran her hand through her hair once, rechecking the length, and then stood from her perch near the pool to approach him. "Besides, there were some things I wanted to know."

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><p>"Have you given it some thought?" Temari asked when he finally made his way into the kitchen that morning. She was sitting at the table cradling a steaming cup of tea between her hands. There was a plate of breakfast waiting for him across from her, and she gestured to it when he did not immediately move toward it. "Eat," she commanded, and then took a timely sip from her tea.<p>

"All night," he finally replied, wiping his mouth. "And I have come to the conclusion that, if I do find a partner, they will most certainly not be from _here_."

Her brow furrowed. "Are you sure? There are plenty of girls who would jump at the chance."

He washed down his food with a cup of water. "I also decided to take up Kankuro on his offer. I do believe a break is well overdo."

She opened her mouth, prepared to argue against him, but she seemed to take a closer look at his face. What she found, he had not the slightest, but she decided to back down anyway. "If you say so. I'll arrange it with the council. You can be gone by tomorrow. Who would you like to appoint while you're off?"

"You would be my first option," he said, "but I would prefer to spend time with the both of my siblings."

"Our sensei, then," she said around a smile. She stood from her seat, left the cup in the sink, and ruffled his hair on the way out. "I'll get on that, then. Pack some clothes for a week and don't forget the essentials."

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><p>"I'll pay a visit when I go," she said, scrubbing her plate clean of her dinner. "Won't be too long now."<p>

The old man's wife had taken to bed, wishing them all a very goodnight and brushing a kiss on her husband's leathery cheek. He was about ready to join her, weary bones aching for sleep, but he lingered by the entrance of the kitchen. There was still so much he had to say, so many questions left to ask.

"It's quite a bit out of your way," he told the girl.

"I'm in no hurry," she reminded, drying her hands on a rag. "I am determined to close all my loose ends. This will be the time to heal."

"And if this is the end?"

"Then this is the end."

He threw up his hands, let them clap together on their way down. "I've always hated that about you. You take, you accept, you move on—never hold on to anything." For just a moment, the old man could see it; in his scant kitchen, before his scant sink, within his scant home, there stood a man, body lean and wrought like a sword, with hair as black as night, and nothing had changed at all. The old man was at once half his age, bright eyed and much too hopeful.

When the moment passed, the old man came back to himself. And in his modest kitchen, before his modest sink, within his modest home, there stood a young girl just the right age to be his granddaughter—his great-granddaughter, even—and he suddenly wondered where the time had gone.

She smiled, a shaky image overlapping itself, and said, "Held onto you," and the old man felt his own age falling over him.

"Do you remember the last time, the very last time you went?"

"Like it was yesterday."

"You never said goodbye."

"Was just down the slope, friend."

"But you never said goodbye. First time I went to visit you myself, you were already gone. Left behind a full house."

She lowered her eyes, and all the answers were shut off right there. "I was selfish. I won't make the same mistake twice."

"Is that what this is to you?" the old man asked, because he honestly needed to know. "More chances to get something right?"

The question hung heavy between them, and the old man almost thought she would answer honestly this time around.

But she turned another smile to him, told him, "Go to bed. You must rest."

And that was all the answer she gave.

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><p><span><strong>A.N.<strong>**: So, I'm hoping this isn't too confusing so far. Next chapter, it'll start coming together a little better.**


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